Chapter 375 Whirlpool (2)

White Eagle's hall was gradually filled with guests.

Most of the people who came to attend the meeting were famous workshop owners in Steel Castle, and many of the men could still see the burn scars left by molten iron on their hands.

Of course, there are also some "upper-class gentlemen" who are fair and clean and look pampered.

Although their age, temperament, and conversation are different, the society the guests live in is the same, and they have the same identity: the master of the forge.

Winters' schoolmate—a mysterious middle-aged man missing two fingers—seems to be well respected by the forge masters. Wherever he went, people would stop talking, nod, or raise a glass to greet him.

The middle-aged man swaggered through the venue and went straight to the long table at the other end of the hall, with Winter following behind calmly.

Kaman, who was drinking at the long table, inadvertently caught a glimpse of Winters walking over with a strange face. He put down the cup and stood up slowly.

The caster and the priest looked at each other across the crowd, and Kaman asked with his eyes - "Need help?"

Winters tilted his head in Anna's direction without revealing anything - "Don't worry about me, protect Anna."

Kaman nodded slightly and walked towards the side hall where the ladies gathered.

The middle-aged man casually picked up a bottle of wine on the long table, turned around and walked towards the small conversation circle near the long table.

There were about a dozen guests gathered near the long table, all of whom were quite old. Most of them had gray beards and hair, and their heads were bald. These people have long passed the age of courting ladies and are unwilling to lower their status and associate with the younger generation, so they naturally form a small circle.

Seeing the middle-aged man approaching, the burly old man at the head nodded and greeted: "Colonel."

"Mr. Schmid." The middle-aged man responded politely.

While talking, a middle-aged man stepped into the chat circle.

Winters followed the former, staying on the outside of the invisible circle, maintaining an appropriate distance.

The other guests naturally regarded Winters as the "Colonel's" adjutant, so they didn't find anything strange.

"Want some?" The middle-aged man pulled out the cork of the bottle with his bare hands and asked the burly old man with a smile.

The burly old man protected the wine glass: "Distilled spirits? You want my life."

"Distilled? Didn't see the label." The middle-aged man poured himself half a glass of transparent liquid, then handed the bottle and cork to Winters: "Whatever, it's just wine."

The two spoke in a relaxed and friendly tone, and it seemed that they had a close relationship.

Winters silently observed the burly old man - it is no exaggeration to say that when he first saw him, Winters thought someone was playing a prank and actually stuffed a bear into the human's clothes.

"A bear in tights", this is the truest portrayal of a burly old man.

The beard on the temples is as lush as the weeds on the riverside in midsummer, and the dark skin looks like it has just climbed out of the charcoal kiln.

Every button from the chest to the stomach was tightly stretched, obviously undergoing huge tension that should not be endured. The material was enough to make a two-piece jacket for Winters, and it looked a bit restrictive on the burly old man.

Even though middle-aged weight loss and muscle atrophy have made the burly old man no longer strong, you can still imagine the loud noise he would make when he swung the hammer when he was young.

The other old men around him must have also been blacksmiths in the early years - not the "blacksmiths" who bear the name of blacksmiths today and actually become merchants and employers; but the actual blacksmiths who work hard and sweat beside the forge and anvil.

The dangerous and hard careers have left more or less traces on them, including swollen knees, deformed joints, ugly scars... these are all considered lucky.

The old man next to the burly old man has only one knuckle on the other four fingers of his left hand except the thumb. Two more people passed by, and another short, stocky old man had his right eye covered by an eyepatch. He must have been in some accident.

Winters saw everything and kept it in mind, silently collecting information.

Winters was not surprised at all that "the colonel and the old blacksmiths in front of him had similar odors."

"Why don't we talk anymore? Gentlemen?" The middle-aged man smelled the wine glass: "Have I disturbed your interest?"

Several old blacksmiths looked at each other, and Schmid, the burly old man at the head, said gruffly: "If the mayor doesn't show up, what's the use of us old guys complaining more?"

Schmid emphasized the word "Lord Mayor" very strongly, and his dissatisfaction was palpable.

"That boy Paul Wooper must give you an accurate word today!" The short, stocky, one-eyed old blacksmith's fiery temper said: "If a nail hits the wood, there will be a hole in the wood. If he dares to hide things, don't even think about it. It’s my vote, [angry Monta expletive]!”

"What do you think of the trade ban?" Another old blacksmith asked politely, hoarsely, "Colonel Bern?"

Winters blinked, and he finally learned the senior's name.

Colonel Berne took a sip of distilled wine and waved his hands repeatedly: "Please don't harm me. The trade ban is a matter between your Solingen state government and the Grand Council, and has nothing to do with the army. What position should I make?"

"When the emperor is here, the legions are still under the control of the state. Your troops are stationed in Solingen, and you are also a part of Solingen. Of course you can express your stance."

Colonel Berne smiled bitterly and shook his head, refusing to say more.

The one-eyed stocky old blacksmith immediately couldn't hold back his anger. He shouted: "Colonel, you know best. Your soldiers eat, drink, eat, drink, eat, drink, live, clothe, live, and... and the salary you pay, which one is not from our steel fort? After all these years, , we haven’t lost a grain of wheat or a dime of silver to you, have we? Now that the steel castle is under attack, you have to speak for us!”

"That's enough!" The burly old man Schmid roared: "Isn't that embarrassing enough?"

The one-eyed old blacksmith was so angry that he groaned, but said nothing more.

"I'm sorry, Colonel." Old Man Schmid bowed slightly: "We are not blaming you."

Colonel Berne waved his hand, indicating that it was okay. After taking a few sips of wine, he changed the topic: "Last winter training was delayed. I want to make up for it before spring."

Winters pricked up his ears when he heard this - when he was still in the military academy, he had heard that the Monta people would organize military training during the winter farm slack. The disciplined fighting methods of the mountain people were the origin of today's Alliance infantry tactics.

However, the above memories mainly come from the boasts of fellow students from Monta. The war history textbook mentions the relevant content in passing and does not go into details.

Therefore, when Colonel Berne mentioned winter training, Winters immediately cheered up.

Old man Schmid touched his forehead, as if a brown bear was scratching his itch. He recalled: "Last winter...after the lakes and rivers froze last year, everyone was busy working and really couldn't take care of winter training. If we make up for it now...Colonel , it will start to freeze soon.”

"I know."

"It's easy to talk about people in the city, everyone is idle anyway." Old man Schmid's voice was rough and low, but very friendly: "What about the people outside the city? As soon as the weather gets warmer, they will plant The land is very busy."

Colonel Berne had already prepared: "For this supplementary training, I will not recruit 'outsiders'. To be honest, I don't want to recruit 'city dwellers' either."

Old man Schmid frowned and asked: "If you don't recruit people from the city or outside the city, who else can you recruit?"

"Who are you recruiting?" Colonel Bern paused and said with a smile, "Whoever is hungry will be recruited."

After saying that, the colonel drank the remaining distilled liquor in the glass in one gulp. Although Winters felt that drinking like this was harmful to his health, he still handed over the bottle against his will.

Before the other old blacksmiths had recovered, the old man who had just questioned the colonel's attitude had already figured it out. He asked in a hoarse voice: "Do you want to recruit... mule workers?"

Several other old blacksmiths couldn't help but frown when they heard this.

Mule workers are the poorest people at the bottom of Steel Fort. Most of them are not from Steel Fort, but have moved in from other towns and even other states. They were not allowed to be apprentices and could only engage in hard-working trades, working like mules in the mines, so they were contemptuously called mule workers.

Winters also figured it out - the mule workers mentioned by several blacksmiths were the men on the street shivering in the cold wind, waiting for their employers.

"The mule workers are not Steel Castle people, and many of them are not even Solingen people." The one-eyed blacksmith glared: "Winter training is in charge of food and drink, so why should we give them free bread?"

"According to tradition, winter training does not recruit people from outside the state." The old man with a hoarse voice slowly added: "According to the law, winter training is a state matter, and people from outside the state cannot be recruited."

"I know, I know everything." Colonel Bern looked indifferent and was not shaken by the objections at all: "But I also know one thing - people have to eat bread. If you don't have it, you have to find a way to get it, otherwise He's going to starve to death. All the employees in the Steel Castle are out of work right now. If you leave it alone, something big will happen sooner or later. If you don't want to help, then I'll have to do it. Gentlemen, listen up, I'm helping you... It's just that You just haven’t realized this yet.”

The colonel looked around at everyone with a hint of threat. No one among the blacksmiths dared to look at him.

In addition to Schmid, the burly old blacksmith laughed heartily and relieved the tense atmosphere: "The Executive Committee has discussed your proposal, Colonel. But the election is approaching, and the Executive Committee has no authority. In the end, you still have to think A way to convince the next executive committee member, and... the next mayor."

"Yes." Colonel Berne spread his hands and sighed: "Otherwise, why would I be here to join in the fun?"

Old man Schmid patted the colonel's shoulder hard. The colonel shook his head and said nothing more.

"How could it be like this?" The old man with a hoarse voice also sighed: "When we were young, it was so wonderful! As soon as the lakes and rivers froze, we would work hard for the whole winter. Wait until it gets warmer , when the lakes and rivers freeze, boats of all sizes will carry our goods away to Plato, to the United Provinces, and to Veneta. Alas, how did it end up like this?"

As he spoke, the old man's eyes became moist and he couldn't help but sigh again.

The one-eyed old blacksmith muttered and complained: "In the past, when the emperor was still here, although the army was recruited every year, at least the legions were still under the control of the states. With military power, no one dared to wrong us. What now? The legions have been taken over by the federation. They If we turn against each other and refuse to recognize anyone, we will be fucking naked! Anyone can take advantage of it! [Vicious mountain folk’s expletive]!”

Winters listened silently. If memory were a notebook, then he had just written two lines:

"Old blacksmith Schmid is a member of the executive committee";

"The conflict between Solingen and the Monta Federation is more acute than expected, and it may even be that Solingen is not the only state to be hostile."

Winters smelled the opportunity, but for some reason, he could hardly feel the joy, but a little depressed.

If you see the "great heritage" decaying into something that makes more and more people feel dissatisfied, and if nothing can be changed, any person with ideals will sooner or later become a person like Colonel Berne who drinks wine as water.

"What will my legacy be? What will it look like?" Winters asked himself.

Winters even began to wonder: "Is there really a Utopia? Is there really a perfect system? Or is the pursuit of establishing a perfect system itself a mistake?"

Several crisp sounds interrupted Winters' thoughts, and the attention of others was also attracted by the knocking sound.

After focusing everyone's attention on himself, Bai Ying put down the goblet and spoon in his hands and walked gracefully to the center of the hall.

"Gentlemen, dear ladies." Bai Ying bowed to all around in a chic and exaggerated manner, and announced with a unique magnetic voice: "Please allow me to introduce today's most distinguished guests, the respectable public servant of Steel Castle, the loyal husband and the honest man. blacksmith and my best friend—Mayor Paul Wooper.”

From somewhere, sparse applause sounded. The applause immediately became enthusiastic, and the atmosphere reached a high point.

Winters didn't see the "mayor", only a well-dressed, plump, middle-aged man with a stiff expression walking into the hall with a forced smile.

[Here we go!]

[Many words, such as "Executive Committee" sound difficult to pronounce - I feel that way when I write it myself]

[Because the smooth words are actually relatively common words (face covering), it is easy to be mistaken. Therefore, in this story we use uncommon words such as “Resolution Committee”, “Executive Committee” and “Council” instead of commonly used names of power agencies. Please forgive me]

[The foreign words corresponding to some Chinese words are originally the same, such as Senate and Senate...]

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